


she's the one (i'm sorry)

by schwanenkoenigin



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, First Kiss, Fix-It, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Pitch Perfect 3 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 09:17:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13338165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schwanenkoenigin/pseuds/schwanenkoenigin
Summary: "I've seen the way you look at her. You want her."(Set after the kiss. Chicagoknows.)





	she's the one (i'm sorry)

**Author's Note:**

> i went to see pp3 for the second time last night. when i got home, this happened.
> 
> (obviously based on that very unnecessary scene at the end.)

Chloe leans back, eyes closed. Lips pressed together. For someone who’s just kissed the person they’ve had their eyes on for weeks, she doesn’t seem particularly happy. She’s trying to convince herself to smile, to be  _glad_  this has finally happened, to feel  _any_  kind of positive emotion, but– it doesn’t work. It’s not working. Nothing seems to be working lately. Okay, well, that might be a little dramatic but–

She curses to herself.

She wishes she were happy, could be happy about this, but she isn’t.  _Can’t_  be.

Fidgeting with her hands, she opens her eyes. Slowly. Focuses on the lights around her, the stage in the distance. Anything that isn’t Chicago’s face. She  _can’t_  do it. Can’t look at him. It’s too– it’s impossible. Knowing you’re about to hurt someone is– it’s–

“Chicago, I–” Her voice breaks. Shaking her head, she bites her lower lip. Takes a deep breath. Finally looks up. At his face. His eyes. His–

Oh, no. She  _has_  hurt him. With two words. Two words that don’t even  _mean_  anything. Alright, so her  _expression_  may have given her away but–

 _Ugh_.

His  _face_. Where, seconds ago, there was happiness, there is now a bittersweet smile. Sadness graces his features. He quietly says, “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

Chloe wants to punch herself. But she can’t exactly do that right now, in front of him, can she? Instead, she questions, “I don’t?”

Still smiling, he explains, “I’ve seen the way you look at her. It’s– I don’t know, maybe you thought you could get her out of your head. God knows I’ve been there. Or maybe you–” He clears his throat, laughing bitterly. “It doesn’t matter, does it? You want her.”

Chloe swallows the lump in her throat. “I’m sorry.” The two words aren’t even remotely enough–she is certainly aware of that–but it’s all she can come up with right now. Her eyes are glistening, she knows she’s about to cry any second. Chicago is such a sweet guy. He’s proven it on _many_ occasions. He _thinks_ like her, too, which is– it’s so rare, and she really did think she could be into him. It’s only– it would make sense. Girls and boys who are alike  _should_  be into each other, right? They flirt, they share intimate glances, they touch, they–

“I’m going to leave.”

They don’t end up together sometimes. Because, sometimes, the girl is into someone who’s  _not at all_  like her, who’s her polar opposite. Sometimes, the girl is still into the same someone who stole her heart  _years_  ago. Sometimes, the girl is in too deep, and cannot get out. No matter how hard she tries.

Chloe turns around. She can’t watch Chicago walk away right now. Instead, she bites the inside of her cheek. To keep herself from crying. God knows this is exactly the type of situation to make the tears start running. She has no idea where the other Bellas are; and she can’t risk turning around the corner to run into one of them.

She doesn’t even have to go that far.

In fact, right before she has a chance to leave the spot she’s spent the past minutes in, she is stopped by someone’s hands covering her arms. Her head hangs low, so she doesn’t see them, but then a voice– and–

“Chlo.”

Chloe freezes for a second. Then, her wet eyes grow wide, and now she  _really_  doesn’t dare look up. Of course she’s got to run into Beca. Couldn’t she have been stopped by, say, Fat Amy? At least  _she_  would have known how to make her laugh, even in a situation like this. But Beca? Whatever she has to say is probably about Theo or Chicago or– or– or Khaled or– God. She’s started crying.  _Great_. And she’s sobbing too, which isn’t embarrassing at all–

Chloe just wants to run away. To the hotel. She could book the next flight and get the  _heck_  out of here before everything gets even worse. Which, with her luck, isn’t very improbable.

She doesn’t even notice the warmth embracing her body.

All she hears is the blood rushing to her ears, the sound of her heart beating faster and faster in her chest–

Until she relaxes a little. And, then, what she hears is–

 _Beca_. Whispering encouraging words into her ear; comforting her, trying to help stop the crying, the– she– she’s trying to _help_   _her_ even though she doesn’t even  _know_  what’s going on.

Chloe finally hugs back.  _This_  is exactly why she fell in love with the girl. She doesn’t judge–at least not when it comes to stuff like this–she simply tries to make you feel better.  _Strange for a girl who used to hate physical contact_ , Chloe thinks.

The thought makes her chuckle.

Beca leans back. “Hey there, sunshine. You’re back.” Her smile couldn’t be brighter, couldn’t be more beautiful, couldn’t be any more– more  _Beca_.

Chloe swears she’s just fallen for her even more.

Her friend suddenly leans in again, and Chloe thinks she might have a heart attack if– but–  _no_ , no,  _it_  won’t happen, Beca’s just fixing her hair. Wiping away some tears.

Chloe smiles despite the almost-heart attack.

“What about Chicago?” Beca asks. Her hands leave Chloe’s face. Her tone is– is weird now, and she has this– this expression on her face, too, which is–

“He’s–” Chloe clears her throat and looks down, embarrassed. What is she going to tell her? That she basically dumped him because– “What about Theo?” she counters. Great, a distraction. This way, she doesn’t have to think about Chicago.

Okay, so, hearing about  _Theo_  is probably going to break her heart even more, but in a way she’s a masochist, and– and, also, as long Beca is happy, she won’t– Chloe will be happy, too. Broken heart-happy. Yeah.

“Uh– we didn’t–” Beca groans, covers her face with her hands for a second. But immediately continues, “He tried to kiss me. In a way. I think. But I just– it was all weird because I didn’t even think about him in that way once, you know? And I just– maybe I misinterpreted something he thought was very obvious and I– God, you know how I am about this stuff.” She chuckles awkwardly, runs her hand through her hair. “It just– even if I did think about him like that, it’s just like–  _no_ , you know? Especially with me being his boss now and–” She bites her lip. “I’m rambling, aren’t I?” It doesn’t sound like a question. It’s a statement. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s–” Chloe reaches out to touch Beca’s arm– “it’s alright.” She smiles encouragingly.

“Okay.”

In a way– in a way, Chloe is glad things turned out like this between Beca and Theo. She hates herself for even  _thinking_  this way, but– it’s just– she loves her, and she can’t help but  _hope_ whenever things like this happen. Even after all this time. She takes a glance at the girl in front of her. And, as she looks at Beca–intently–she can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to this than  _I’m not interested in him_.

Maybe she should ask.

She can handle some more heartbreak tonight. Rejecting and being rejected all in one night–maybe she can soon cross that off of her bucket list. In a few seconds, minutes, maybe. She breathes in. Out. In. Out. Squeezes her friend’s arm. And finally– “Bec, is there– are you sure you’re fine with– with  _this_? For someone who has just had the performance of their life and turned down a guy they didn’t want in the first place, you don’t look– well, happy.” She looks into Beca’s eyes, trying to say,  _You can tell me. I’m here._

Beca sighs. Turns her head. Laughs. And, finally, she looks back at Chloe, eyes glistening. “Having to reject someone  _is_  tough. I don’t–" she coughs awkwardly, maybe to cover up her lie and the fact that her voice is about to break from it– “I don’t know. You already said it. I had this, like,  _great_  evening. A great show. I sang with  _you_  guys. It was– it was perfect. Couldn’t have been better. But while I was on stage I– we–  _you_ – you looked at me and I– I broke.”

Chloe blinks. Knits her eyebrow. Can’t get a word to leave her lips.  _Me?_ , she silently mouths.

“You– um– I thought about you.”

Silence.

“You and– and Chicago. About how– um– how crazy you are about him. I didn’t– I knew you’d be– I knew you’d want to be with him and I realized that I– I–” she sobs– “I’d yet again missed the chance to tell you how I– how I feel about you. And I– yeah, I’ve been  _so_ – I’ve been so happy and– yeah, everything’s great but– but I– I– I  _keep_  screwing this up, I keep wasting my time not telling you that– oh, my God.” She lets out another laugh. A laugh filled with both shed and unshed tears. “ _Chlo_ , I’ve been in love–I’ve been in love with you for, like, so long and– and I still haven’t–” She stops, then, and just cries. Sobs rack her body, and she can’t–

Chloe–who’s too overwhelmed and really, honestly can’t process anything right now, anyway–steps closer to Beca, closer and closer and closer. Wraps her arms around her, hugs her. Tightly. Lets her sob into her neck. Into her chest. Lets her tears stain her outfit. (Who cares about these stupid clothes?) She strokes her hair, mumbles, “I’ve got you,” into her ear, over and over again.

It takes a few minutes for Beca to calm down. Once she has, however, she breaks the hug. Her face is all red and swollen, yet Chloe thinks she’s never looked more breathtaking.

“You’re beautiful,” she says.

Beca blushes.

“You’re the most beautiful, most talented girl I’ve ever met, and I love you,” she continues, smiling brightly. “You’re honest, you’re smart, you’re– you’re so–” Chloe moans. “I’ve told you all of this before. You just didn’t think I meant it romantically. So, basically, just imagine me saying everything I’ve ever said to you because, phew, I don’t want to repeat it all. I– if you don’t mind, I’d rather kiss you since that’s something I  _haven’t_  done yet. Something I’ve been waiting for, though. Seriously, Bec, I don’t want to waste any more time.” It might sound a little impatient but– oh, well. (She  _is_  impatient.)

Beca seems to get it. Instead of answering, the now smirking girl pulls Chloe closer again, and not half a second later, their lips are finally,  _finally_ connected in a kiss.

It’s– it’s overwhelming. Soft–but not too soft because, yeah, they’ve been waiting for this for too long not to slip some tongue in right away–yet passionate.

Perfect. It’s  _perfect_. And maybe it’s perfect  _because_  they’ve spent such a long time  _not_  kissing each other when they could have. Maybe it’s perfect because they appreciate it so much that: they’re finally here, lips locked, and– and, really, it doesn’t matter  _why_  it’s so perfect. It just  _is_. They’re finally together. After years and years and years. And Chloe thinks she might want to keep kissing Beca forever. This kiss– she wants it to be one of millions. It makes her feel like she can do anything. And she wants many, many more to follow. It’s– it may sound cliché, but this kiss really is everything she’s dreamt of, everything she’s ever wanted, and so much more. It’s better than fantasizing about it, better than daydreaming. Beca’s  _such_  a good kisser, too, and Chloe swears her knees are weak already. The kiss doesn’t even last too long–just under a minute–and yet she thinks it might be the best thing that’s happened in  _years_.

The two girls break the kiss for oxygen reasons, and, instantly, Beca’s back to grinning. “Okay, so, I didn’t think I’d be able to say this after the day we’ve all had but–  _yeah_ , this  _definitely_  just beat  _all_  the other events of the evening.  _Including_  performing together.” She takes Chloe’s hand to lead them outside.

“Yeah, I’m going to have to agree,” Chloe says dreamingly, enjoying the feeling of Beca’s hand around hers. God, she can’t stop thinking about– she won’t ever be able to–

“Please,” Beca teases, “that’s a lie. You love performing with me too much.”

“True,” Chloe agrees, “but I also enjoy kissing you.” It’s an understatement. She doesn’t  _simply_  enjoy it. She likes it.  _Loves_  it, even. A lot. Even though it’s only been  _one_  kiss.

Laughter. “You’re whipped.”

“Yeah,” Chloe sighs dramatically, “I always have been.”

They look at each other, then, and start chuckling. It’s good to know that, between the two of them, everything still comes naturally. The jokes, the banter. The flirting. The confessions haven’t really changed anything; they’re not, like, all awkward now. No, they’re still the same Beca and Chloe. They’re still in love. Only– only _officially_.

Their lives are going to remain exactly the same. The only difference? They’re together. And since a bond like theirs is hard–impossible, even–to break, they’re most definitely going to _stay_ together.

* * *

Somewhere in the distance, a girl is sitting next to her girlfriend.

They’ve watched the interaction from here–although Chloe and Beca wouldn’t even have noticed them if they had been _two inches_ away–and, quite honestly, they’re happy for the girls. Still– “It took them long enough,” the blonde mumbles into her girlfriend’s neck.

“Word.” She rolls her eyes. “I swear to God, Jess, if they hadn’t gotten their shit together this time, I would’ve kicked their asses. For real.”

A chuckle follows. “I know. That’s why I’ve kept you away. Wouldn’t want one of them injured before the big event.” Jessica nudges her girlfriend lightly.

“Funny,” comes the huffed reply.

“They probably wouldn’t even have kicked you out,” Jessica muses. “Wouldn’t have known it was you. They’d have thought it was, like, a ghost or something.” She breaks the side-hug and looks at Ashley with an exaggeratedly serious expression. She puts on an Australian accent as she imitates one of their old group mates, “Don’t worry, Beca Mitchell, I’ve dealt with evil spirits before. Let me handle this.”

Ashley bursts out laughing at the words, and Jessica joins in.

(And since nobody ever notices them, anyway, they do not even care about what they must look like; cracking up without any obvious reason.)

Once she’s calm enough, Ashley leans over and kisses Jessica on the lips. It’s a quick kiss, but she puts all of her emotions into it. Voices them, too. Says, “Damn, I really love you.”

Jessica beams. “I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading this. kudos would be great. ily :)


End file.
